


Broken Comfort

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Short, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-13
Updated: 2003-03-13
Packaged: 2019-04-27 06:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Missing scene in Sein Und Zeit.  What happened after Mulder broke down 'till before Skinner arrived.





	Broken Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

Broken Comfort

## Broken Comfort

### by ScamBeliever

TITLE: Broken Comfort  
AUTHOR: ScamBeliever  
**RATING: G**  
SPOILER WARNING: Sein Und Zeit  
SUMMARY: What happened after Mulder broke down 'till before Skinner arrived. 

Broken Comfort  
by ScamBeliever 

I slip my fingers through his hair, smoothing it gently as wave after wave of hidden pain is unburdened by this man who has me in a crushing embrace, unaware of my growing physical discomfort. 

But this is not supposed to be about me nor is it remotely about us. This is all him. Just Mulder. And I let it be because he needs this. This release, my comfort. And I try, the best way I can, just to absorb his pain, his guilt, his overflowing remorse. 

It's an overwhelming task and I struggle to keep my own composure. 

I feel him. 

I feel his every wave of tears coming and I feel my eyes fill with restrained ones. I feel him as he muffles his cries on my neck, as he holds me impossibly tighter, as his tears soak my shirt. 

But no matter how uncomfortable, how uneasy, I bite my tongue from expressing superficial pain while he relieves gut-deep of a lifetime's worth. This is one of the rare times I could repay him for his constant hovering and unwavering concern that sometimes seem to alarmingly supercede his quest which, to be honest, scares me a little. 

So no, I will not complain even if he manages to squeeze the life out of me, if he somehow is still able to hold me even tighter. 

I answer his firm hold with my loose one, caressing his back, trying to calm Mulder's shaking body. I cup his head as my lips occasionally graze his hair and his temple, rocking him slightly like a mother would to her child. 

In a way, Mulder is like my own child. 

I feel protective of him, making sure that I block any weapon aimed at him with anything I could possibly get a hold of even if it means sacrificing my life. He has done it for me too many times than I can remember. 

I hold him now, protecting him from the danger of fully breaking down. 

I feel him calm down and I can finally breathe easily. I take a deep breath and inhale a lungful of Mulder-hair scent. He stills suddenly and I'm afraid he might've come to a sudden decision to do something incredibly rash. 

For a whole minute I wait for him to move, anticipating a bolt to his front door. But to my relief, he just slowly extracts himself from me. 

A little too slowly, I observe, seemingly uncertain of what to do with himself. I lean back slightly to assess him but he keeps his face down reminding myself again of how childlike he can be. 

I place my hand on his cheek and slide it down his chin, urging him gently to look at me. He raises his head but his eyes remain downcast. My thumb wipes a few escaped tears from his cheeks and I force my own not to reach my eyes. 

How I wish I knew what could, at the very least, dull his pain for a few moments. 

We are still in a loose embrace, neither one of us has moved yet to part. I know Mulder needs to rest and I move to disentangle myself from him. His eyes, which earlier did not dare meet mine, follow me as I slowly move to stand up. 

I feel my spine and my neck pop almost simultaneously and my muscles ache from my previous uncomfortable crouch. I keep my face neutral as I mask the groan I am dying to blurt out, fighting the urge to stretch my every limb. His hands have slid down to mine and I tug them gently. 

"C'mon Mulder. You get some rest." 

He slips his eyes shut and takes a breath, exhaling heavily. Finally, he shifts to his side to push himself off the floor. He lolls his head back, his face a picture of total exhaustion. 

I wait for him to compose himself more, willing him to rest, to hold every thought at bay 'till tomorrow. He slowly levels his head and warily eyes the couch. I shake my head and beat him to it. 

"No Mulder. You'll be more comfortable in your own bed." 

I release my hand from his hold to place it on his back, gently ushering him towards his bedroom. He gives in without complaint, no strength to spare for argument.  
But as we enter his bedroom, he stops a foot short from the bed. He lowers his head and rubs his eyes. 

"Mulder?" I ask, surprisingly, with a tired voice. 

"Yeah, I'll...I just need a minute." he whispers. 

I wait for him but somewhere into the few seconds of his 'minute', I suddenly realize that he may have meant to be alone. But before I start to leave, he moves to the bed and tentatively climbs on it. 

I immediately help to tuck him under the covers and make sure he's as comfortable as possible. Such a small thing to do and the feeling of helplessness hits me hard. His eyes flutter close and too tightly as if concentrating hard on summoning the sandman. I smooth his hair one final time and bend to kiss his wrinkled forehead. 

"G'night Mulder." I say to his shut eyes. 

'Please God, let him rest' I pray silently. I straighten up to leave but as I take one step away, I feel Mulder grab my hand. Startled, I look at him confused. 

His eyes are wide, intense, and something else I can't quite pinpoint. Is it fear? Of what? 

"Scully..." he croaks and I detect a hint of embarrassment in his voice. 

I cock my head to more thoroughly read his expression. What exactly can he be embarrassed about?  
Then slowly, it finally dawns on me. 

He doesn't want to be alone. 

I almost smile at him, knowing he couldn't outright ask me to stay. Mulder opens his mouth a couple of times to speak but can't seem to find his voice. If this were in different circumstances, I would've been amused. But in times like this one, I can't help feeling annoyed. He should be able to just simply ask me. What's a friend for? 

At his third try, he manages to whisper, "Scully, thank you." 

I push away the feeling, responding by squeezing his hand and giving him a reassuring smile. I pull away slowly trying to gage his reaction. 

His eyes dart to my hand and I knew he couldn't work himself to ask. After all these years, I can't understand why he is still afraid to ask a personal favor from me. 

I push the thought aside and decide to relieve him from his dilemma. 

"If there's anything you need, I'll just be on the couch." I say, my back already turned as I leave his room. And just as I step out of the doorway, I hear him sigh in relief. 

* * *

I've been in and out of sleep, tossing and turning as quietly as I can, willing myself to rest because tomorrow Mulder will still be needing me. He will need my strength, will expect a steady hand to hold. 

'Please God, let me rest.' I pray. The same one I had lifted for Mulder. 

As I was about to glance at my watch for the nth time, I hear a muffled sound from Mulder's room. I sit up immediately and I strain to hear more clearly. 

There it is again, a soft whimper. 

I am out of the couch in a flash and I couldn't care less if my footsteps thud loudly on the floor. 

When I reach the doorway, the sight I behold causes me to stop for a second. Mulder's covers have fallen to the floor. I reach to pick them up but I stop abruptly as Mulder lets out another whimper. Cold sweat has dampened his hair and shirt. He is clutching his pillow, the pillowcase in grave danger of being ripped into shreds. I shake him gently, trying to loosen his hold at the same time. 

"Mulder...Mulder..." 

I lean further, placing one knee on the bed and leaving one foot on the floor for balance. 

"Mulder...Mulder!" I say louder and shake him harder, but Mulder's fingers remain white and tense and still locked in a death grip. 

I shake even harder and just as I am about to slap his face, he bolts right up and grabs my hand that is poised to strike. 

"Scully!" he shouts at my face. 

I jump at his voice and try to pull my hand from his hold as I become suddenly afraid. 

His grip is shockingly painful and that's probably part of the reason why I panicked. But what's scaring me the most is the look of utter terror on his face. 

It is absolute fear. 

I never thought he is even capable of that. He has seen too many monsters, that I have secretly envied his almost casual detachment to the most inhumane characters we have come across together. 

What could possibly terrify him anymore? I know I am asking something I may not be ready for. 

I try to shake off the horrible feeling and try to focus on Mulder's condition. His wide eyes are softening to a blank stare, obviously confused as to what had just happened. 

After a few tight blinks, his horrified expression gradually disappears. Everything becomes relatively normal except for his grip on my wrist. 

I exhale slowly as if trying to exorcise the fear that although pushed aside, would not altogether go away. 

"Mulder, are you okay? You had a bad dream." I say trying to sound soothing. His grip on my wrist isn't painful anymore but I am dying to jerk it away. The prolonged hold has left me feeling uneasy and imprisoned. I glance at it and stare back at him, signaling him to let go. 

But then Mulder does something...odd. 

Without letting go, he slowly raises his free hand towards my face. My unease is quickly replaced by confusion. Out of reflex, I move my head away to avoid his hand. His fingers stop at midair and I suddenly realize what I have done. I stare back at him, stopping my movement. After a heartbeat, he resumes his action and touches a finger to my temple. He slides it down the side of my face, pausing a second at the corner of my ear as if to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen. 

He seems to be observing my every reaction. His eyes narrow a bit and just as suddenly, he leans back and drops my hand. 

For a minute, I don't move. Finally I sit down slowly, twisting my hand to work out my joints. I look back at Mulder who I find, has buried his face on his crossed arms atop bent knees. Watching him, I feel wretched for my thoughtlessness. I am supposed to be comforting him, not pushing him away. 

'Stupid Dana.' I scold myself, knowing that Mulder is too emotional and sensitive that he may take the slightest hesitation as total abandonment. 

I mentally kick myself as I think of a way to remedy my mistake. I sit beside him and reach to stroke his bent head. I take a deep breath and hope for the best. 

"Mulder...was the dream that bad?" I started, already wishing I could take back the words. I sound like a mom baby-talking her child. Thankfully, Mulder doesn't seem to mind. 

"Worse." he whispers. 

I pause at midstroke, not expecting to hear the fear back in his voice. The feeling of dread is working its way back and I swallow nervously. 

"H-how worse?" I ask, unsure if I want to hear his answer. 

Mulder doesn't respond immediately. His hands, which were hanging beside his knees, are balled into fists. They are shaking either from the pressure or from fear. He then lifts his head and stares intently into my eyes. His eyes penetrate through me and I force myself to hold the gaze. 

"I dreamt of my one true fear," he slowly says, emphasizing on every word. 

Oh my god. I lean away a bit, shocked at his revelation. I think of only one thing he could be implying and I feel like my mind crashed and altogether halted from overload. 

'No, Dana. He isn't talking about you,' I say to myself. 'He's tired, he's confused, and he isn't talking about you.' 

I bite my lip and try to think of something to say. 

"Lie down, Mulder. You have to get some rest," is what comes out of my mouth. I try not to cringe at my insensitivity and cowardice. 

Mulder doesn't move. I watch him watch me with a look of unmistakable sadness. I watch him swallow down a fresh wave of tears. 

'What have I done, again?' I am more than confused. I am more than frustrated with myself and I feel totally helpless about the situation. I am grasping for just about anything to be able to say the right words and do the right things. I want to break down and cry for I don't seem to be doing anything to help my friend. 

He has torn his gaze from me, making me able to somewhat think more clearly. 

'I am simply here to be at his side and that's what I'm going to do.' Literally. 

I pick up the covers that have fallen. I can feel Mulder's eyes on me as I climb on the bed beside him. I prop a pillow against the headboard and pull the covers to my waist. 

When I finally look up at Mulder, he is staring at me again. Who could blame him? His confusion is understandable. One minute I'm distant, the next I'm...well, right here beside him. 

I give him a small smile and pat my lap. I reach out and put my hand at the back of his neck, urging him to lie down on it. Suddenly it occurs to me that he might decline, and I almost pull back my outstretched arm. 

But to my relief, Mulder takes my offer and slides back down on the bed. He settles his head on my lap and his right arm snakes around my legs. I stroke his hair gently, hoping the rhythmic caress would lull him to sleep. 

After a few minutes, I feel my exhaustion creeping back and my eyelids begin to lower. I try to stay awake 'till I'm sure that Mulder has gone to sleep. The last thing I am aware of is the feel of Mulder's arm tightening its hold on me. 

* * *

I can feel the soft rays of the sun on my face. I can almost see it through my still drunken shut eyes. I try to snuggle closer to the warm pillows surrounding me. I shift a bit, making myself more comfortable, but for some reason find it hard to maneuver. 

'The pillows may have been too much.' I think sluggishly. 

With eyes still stubbornly closed, I turn to face the other side. I can now feel the warm pillow on my whole front side and I reach out to pull it closer. 

But the moment I touch it, I still from the contact. It is soft, but not as soft as I had expected it to be. It is _not_ what I think it is but it feels oddly familiar. 

Awareness jolts my mind back to the events of the night before and I finally realize who I am touching. I could feel my face grow warm as I become aware of the heavy arm that is wrapped around my waist that is probably the cause of my rather limited movement. If I had blushed, I'm a bit comforted with the thought that Mulder is still asleep to notice. 

For one thing, I'm pretty sure he would've discreetly disentangled himself if he found us in such a position - just as I would. 

Finally, I decide to open my eyes. I let out one heavy breath and brace myself. Slowly, I peek through and I raise my eyes to look at Mulder's face. 

'OH MY -' 

I shut them almost immediately. I feel my heart race and pound so hard it almost hurts. With my ears pressed on the pillow, I can hear it echo thunderously, quite certain he can hear it himself. 

'Open your eyes, damnit! Stop being a coward and just face it!' 

I do, after a couple of heartbeats and again I dare to look. 

Mulder is how I last saw him, staring back at me. I try not to dwell on the thought that he seems to have been awake for a good long time. 

Maybe he's just in a daze and my face just happens to be a few inches away. Maybe he isn't even aware that I'm already awake AND looking right back at him. 

But then I see his eyes shift slightly as he stares at my left eye and then to my right. He then lowers his eyes to observe my nose. I could feel my eyebrow arch a bit. I'm genuinely curious as to what he is thinking. But when he shifts his gaze even lower to my lips, I bite down the gasp of surprise. 

He lingers there and alarm bells ring furiously within my head. I think fast as to how to distract, not sure if it's for his sake or mine. Maybe both. 

I push away gently using the hand I have placed on his chest. I probably got as far as an inch difference considering Mulder still has his arm wrapped firmly around my waist. 

"How are you feeling?" I blurt out. 

He doesn't respond immediately. His gaze leaving my lips, now focuses on my hand on his chest. 

"Better." he whispers, without taking his eyes off it. 

'No, no, no, no...' I flinch, pulling my hand away from him. 

"That's good..." I say as I pat his arm, not knowing where else to place it. 

Suddenly, I feel his fingers slightly strumming my lower back. I contain my shiver brought about by his touch. I lower my head, too conscious of his eyes, his fingers, his warmth. But I let him hold me. If this will help him heal, then this I'll grant him. 

His pain has ebbed a bit but is still within reach and one more Scully Screw-Up can haul it back with a vengeance. 

But the nagging feeling of us somewhat crossing the line tugs at my conscience annoyingly. Without looking directly at him, I find a way to hold on to the boundary we're threatening to cross. 

"Are you hungry?" I lamely ask. 

"No." he answers rather flatly. 

"Do you want some coffee?" I try again. 

"Not yet." 

"Have you considered asking Skinner to take a few days leave?" 

"No...I don't know. I'm not sure yet." 

"But Mulder-" 

"Scully?" 

"What?" I jerk my head up, distracted by the interruption. 

"Do you want me to let go of you?" he asks. 

I feel embarrassed with my transparency and I'm left dumbfounded. Mulder's eyes are daring me either to say yes or to say no. 

Coward that I am, I ask, "Do you?" 

He holds me with a penetrating gaze for what seems like an eternity. I open my mouth to speak thinking he wouldn't answer, but I stop when he moves his face slowly towards mine. 

My heart is definitely breaking through my chest now. Oh my God. 

And then, Mulder touches his forehead to mine, his eyes closed. I strain to look at him in the closeness. 

His eyes remain closed but what surprises me is the small smile playing on his lips. The overall picture of his face is...contentment ? 

Maybe I'm mistaken but I'd know a smile from Mulder anywhere. I'd detect even the ghost of it and here it is. I let myself believe that somehow, _I_ contributed to it. That somehow, amidst all my shortcomings, I have delivered what was needed of me - to bring comfort. 

I am here for him, with him, now. 

"No." I hear him whisper and it takes me a couple of seconds to remember what he was answering to. I give in to the urge to soothe him more, caressing his arm where I had patted it. He rubs his forehead gently on mine and sighs heavily. 

"If I can stay like this..." his voice trails off but it's not hard to guess what he meant. Knowing it and feeling what he meant is almost frighteningly inexplicable. 

But somehow, I lose the awkwardness and fear. I simply know that I'm at the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing. Boundaries, lines and other complicated issues be damned. I know this is where I'm supposed to be. 

We stay that way for a long time, neither one of us wanting to break away. It feels so comfortable and I feel the start of a light slumber coming. Just as I am about to surrender to it, I feel Mulder's lips lightly brush my forehead. I couldn't help stiffening at that and I'm immediately wide awake again. I don't look up, pretending it was nothing. But then I feel him plant two kisses on my nose. One at the bridge then another down at the tip. 

It is dangerously lower and I feel a panic rise within me. I open my eyes wide just then. He watches me search his eyes, full of questions and fear. I see him suppress a smile as he looks at me with amusement. 

For a moment, I was ready to wipe his smile with my fist. Damnit, he should know better. This is _us_ for crying out loud. 

Part of me wants to see what happens, because it sure feels...I don't know, exhilarating. But part of me is still gripped with fear of what we may compromise if we actually pursue it. And a part of me doubts that he actually wants it, that he's not just emotional and sensitive from mourning that he craves some sort of intimacy and I just happen to be the one with him right now. 

And there is also a part of me that craves it as well because he is hurting and I feel it with him. And I feel the need to be of comfort to him, try to shield him from all that is painful. Such is the need to do anything and everything for him to make him happy, even push our boundaries to the limit. 

I think my decision has just been made. 

His amusement quickly vanishes as he reads my expression with a bit of surprise. He stares at my eyes, which have grown somber, leveling evenly with his. When he still doesn't do anything, I muster enough nerve to continue what he started. 

Slowly, I lean towards him. Mulder for his part, shuts his eyes and waits expectantly for me. I am incredibly close, almost feeling the beginnings of his stubble. I slightly part my lips, and surprisingly, so does Mulder. 

**_BANG! BANG! BANG!_**

The sharp rap on the door reverberates through the whole apartment and I jerk away instantly. As I am suddenly alert, Mulder remains the same. He is still waiting, and a frown is forming as he realizes I still hadn't touched him. 

His eyes fly open and he looks accusingly at me as he sees that I've moved away. 

"Someone's at the door, Mulder." I explain. 

His frown deepens making me feel traitorous. Mulder's stern gaze lowers down to my lips. With a determined look he leans towards me with purpose. 

**_BANG! BANG! BANG!_**

I push away slightly but firmly. 

"I think I have to get that. It may be important." I say. 

He stiffens at my words. He stops but never takes his eyes off my lips. I see the hurt on his face for a split second before he masks it quickly, now staring blankly at my mouth. 

I extricate myself from him slowly and I brace for any resistance. There is none. 

He doesn't make a move to remove his arms from me, but he doesn't stop me from removing them myself either. I want to cry at that very moment, seeing him looking more resigned and tired than he did last night. 

'I'm so sorry.' I want to apologize but I'm not yet sure what for. Before I stand right up, I kiss his forehead softly. It's a bitter consolation, but I could only hope he accepts it. 

My hand finds his cheek and I rub my thumb across. He refuses to meet my eyes and remains unmoving. I swallow a forming lump, retrieving my hand that seemed to offend rather than soothe. 

Walking towards the front door, my legs seem to grow heavier with each step. 

As I am about to reach for the handle, I momentarily stop when I realize that my hand is partially wet, particularly my thumb. I stare at it, trying to figure out where I could've gotten it from. 

And then suddenly, it dawns on me like a bullet through the chest. It feels exactly like it, knowing that _I_ am responsible for it. 

It came from something I may have wiped away that I wasn't able to notice. One fresh tear. 

One fresh, lonely, Mulder tear. 

At that unbearable thought, another drop settles on my palm. This time, it is one of my own. 

* * *

Author's note: This short piece took me awhile because I've been sidetracked by a lot of things. My thanks to Shigger for her all out support. Thanks for the ideas, keep 'em coming. Comments please   
  


#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to ScamBeliever


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